Lust or Love
by not a tenshi
Summary: LenxMiku. A drama based loosely on the famous Vocaloid song Spice! A girl fell hopelessly in love with a guy who loves someone else. A guy unintentionally fell in love with someone he can't ever have. Isn't it the perfect combination?
1. Part 1–Miku

**Setting**: Modern Day, no specific time-line/season. High school. Somewhere in Japan.

**Story Details**: Based loosely on Ryuusei–P's _Spice!, __**Lust or Love **_is a story about a girl who fell hopelessly in love with a guy who loves someone else and a guy who unintentionally fell in love with someone he can't ever have. Len is still the same womanizer, but still a teenager with angst-y feelings. Miku is still one of Len's numerous exploits, equal to the rest of them. The idea is based on an Alternate Reality prompt (because I loooove AUs)—what if _someone _found out about Len's feelings for his sister in the heat of the moment?

**Pairing**: Kagamine Len/Miku Hatsune or LenKu, for short.

**Rating**: M for strongly suggestive adult themes and dark drama (i.e. incest).

**Warnings**: Varying depictions of underage heterosexual intercourse (may be implied, mentioned, suggested, described, etc.), incest, minor character deaths.

Disclaimer: Vocaloid and its characters are the properties of the Yamaha Corporation. _Spice! _sung by the Vocaloid Kagamine Len is produced by Ryuusei-P (**流星****P** ). This work of fan fiction is made for the delight of the writer and the readers, not for profit. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**_Lust or Love by not a tenshi (the name sucks ughghg)_**

_PART I_

* * *

No one is home. No one ever is. Mom is always out at work. Dad is in Kami-knows-where. But it's okay. I have company.

The doorbell rings like crazy. "Just a minute!" I dash to answer it. I know who's at the door, but to be sure, I checks through the peephole then I open the door.

After that, it all happens so fast. The door slams shut, locked. My back hits the wall, and before I can react, lips press against mine. He is aggressive, as always, so when he pulls back and started trailing kisses on my neck, I was done for. I feel his hot breath tickle my ear and the next thing I know he is assaulting _that_ sweet spot. My knees buckles.

Ever the vain one, he draws back to look at me, to admire what he did so effortlessly. I can't help but whimper a protest at the lack of him—I want more of him—while he eyes me like a masterpiece. His hand ghosts to the hem of my worn-out shirt and under, tracing my skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps.

I'm not wearing any bra, being home alone and all and I know he would like it. And he did. He hums a deep, sexy melody that stirs my insides in approval. I take this time to eye him like he was doing to me.

I focus on his eyes, which are dark, dilated. This speaks to me very greatly because it means that he felt the same as me; that I was not alone. He is as turned on as me, and the desire comes from both of us, floating through the air, getting us drunk in its haze. We stare at each other, feasting our eyes, until the static became too intense for the both of us to bear that we just had to close the annoying distance between us.

We went back to making out by the door. I feel his tongue trace my lip and in turn I clutch his shirt tightly. His finger grazes my nipple, the sensations are too much and—_Oh dear __L__ord__—_I moan against his mouth. I feel something hard against my stomach.

He breaks our hot tongue-dance and leaves me hazy with lust. "Bedroom," he mumbles, which I almost didn't hear. I was too busy dazing at his mouth, wet, puffed up, like mine. I know it was throbbing and sensitive, like mine. My mind is screaming: _I did that. I did that. I did that._

I look at his dark eyes. No words need to be spoken.

All the while I slowly reach out to hold his hand, to lead him into my bedroom, but all I hold was air. So, I turn and walk to my room, with him trailing behind me.

No words are needed. Everything about this arrangement is unspoken, agreed upon in silence. He would come. I would invite him in. We would—er—_entertain_ each other. He would leave and we go back to our normal lives. No strings attached. No conversations. Just direct to the point. Just pure sex.

Somehow, this talk-scarce relationship has its benefits. We don't talk, yes, but we know each other better than anyone else. I know what he likes. He knows what I like. We have pretty much memorized each other. And it doesn't get boring, we experiment sometimes.

I can't help but feel something was off. The moment we lay on the bed and start playing, teasing, pleasuring, I realize how breathless he is, how he seems unrestrained. His responses are louder. He was always in control, it's what he likes, but I've won more games than him tonight. I disregard the thought, it distracts me from the task in hand (or, should I say, in my mouth). I was busy enjoying the way he clutched my hair, albeit being painful.

I think maybe this is it. He's in this for the long run. No more other girlfriends—just me. I think, finally, he returns my feelings, as that could be the only explanation for the different Len with me in my bed.

And that was foolish. I should have noticed something was wrong. It was there; right in front of my face, mocking me. It was in the way he moans, the way he grunts, and the way he called out my name.

Because it was the wrong name.

He was into it a bit too much. He lost himself. He lost control. Because as he pounded inside me, both of us struggling for release, he called out a different name.

"_Rin!_"

* * *

I never pegged myself to be an idiot. Idiots touch things you aren't supposed to touch. Idiots look at things you should not see. Idiots live in the illusion that everything will work out in the end and live happily ever after. Idiots don't fall helplessly and irrevocably in love with a person who has multiple lovers and lusts after his sister.

It didn't take a genius to put two and two together—not that I was admitting I was an idiot. I woke up in bed alone, like usual, but the off-feeling remained in my gut.

Gossip was a bit lively at school than usual, like everything was off. I find out from a red-haired guy I managed to charm effortlessly that Rin was going out with Kaito.

It was the news of the century, he said with heart-shaped eyes. Or that is, in the bounds of high school.

"They're such a nice couple!" the red-haired guy complimented. _Campus crush together with school sweetheart. _Popular guy dating popular girl. The usual factor that the rumour mill gets off with.

While gathering some stuff from my locker, I spot the happy couple. Instantly, I feel someone beside me. I didn't even glance; I don't need to, because I knew who it was. The same smell assaulted my senses, reminding me of our naughty and pleasurable escapades.

"Look at them," he said conversationally, as if we weren't friends (we're not) or as if we weren't doing each other last night (and early this day).

I resist the urge to look at his face, afraid that I'll see it full of jealousy. I shrugged and turned to slam my locker shut. "They do make a nice couple," I reply conversationally back, because that's what I've heard everyone say about the blue-haired prince and the blonde-haired princess.

I look at him from the corner of my eye to see how he'd react – he cringed a little. To cover his slip-up, he leans casually against my closed locker door. "Yeah, nice."

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

I think he doesn't know that he said his sister's name last night, but while I contemplated whether I should tell him or not, he pressed his lips against my cheek, almost close to my lips, and bid, "See you around."

I was taken aback, shocked. I was torn between killing him and blushing uncontrollably, the former because his little peck earned me unnecessary attention from his multiplying fan club (if looks could kill) and the latter because he just kissed me. In public. But of course, I blushed, even though I know he was just showing off to Rin, as if I could make her jealous. _As if._

I think I've figured Len out, even for just a little bit.

I thought he was really just a playboy, untamed, breaking hearts every day, messing around whenever with whomever he likes. It turns out that he is just trying to get his mind off of Rin. In effect, he is unable to love anyone else, so he repeats the process. He takes a chance on someone more pretty, but no one was as angelic as his sister. I tried not to pity him, but my heart that loves him indefinitely won over me. I care about him too much already. Too much that I saw this routine of his acceptable. That he got used to it, to nicking girls at random to occupy himself.

I tried not to hate Rin. I really tried very hard not to think that she is the reason why Len changes girlfriends more than he changes clothes. I tried to ignore that he tries hard to look happy and nonchalant in front of Rin. In fact, I should hate myself for noticing things that aren't supposed to be noticed—that's what idiots do.

But what really gets to me is that Len's heart has been captured by Rin and nothing will change that.

The lovestruck puppy in me wanted to hug him and hide him from the evil world.

Two days later, I find myself in the same situation as _that_ night. In the empty recluses of my house, I was again pressed against the wall, him assaulting my neck as I respond wantonly. I clutch his hair tight, even if I knew for a fact that I was being used, like all the other women he goes to bed with every night. It's practically screaming in my head that...

_...he doesn't want you; you're not different from the others; he's just using you; you're nobody (compared to _her_)._

In this moment, it bothers me why I even open the door for him.

Other times I wonder if we all compete with each other to see who gets most of him. I wonder if we compete on who gets his attention. I wonder if we compete on who gets to make him feel most satiated. I wonder if we compete to see who experiences most of his touches. However, I wonder if they do realize our obsession over this guy should be given up. After all, we all lost. To his sister. Rin.

I wonder if he touched us and pretends that we are his sister. This is the one I'm most sure of. After all, I am a chief example.

And then it washes over me, the thought enough to bring me back to sobriety, to pull away from him, disgusted.

Len is in-love with Rin.

His sister.

The brother is in-love with his sister.

It makes me sick.

Now his sweet kisses, his electrifying touches, his warm body against mine repulses me, like a disease.

"Stop."

The sister-thing. The multiple girlfriends. The screwing around. And being one of those girls.

"I can't do this, Len, stop." I try to push him away.

I'm resisting the hurl in my stomach, a threat to empty the contents from dinner.

He continues on sucking my collarbone. "You can, Miku. Loosen up."

"No." He didn't stop. Determined, I push him harder and that does the trick.

We stare at each other for a moment. His eyes scan me, like I'm a case that needs to be solved.

"Hey, if this is about the other day...I'm sorry," he said. '_No! That's wrong' _I practically scream in my head. "I thought you'd be happy about that. I didn't mean for those girls to—" He was talking about that innocent kiss he gave me in school. It's true that the girls at school were meaner to me than usual, but it was nothing I can't handle. I did before. And I have my army of admirers to fend against them. However, he's coming into my personal space again. I can't let that happen.

"Stop," I pleaded, pressing myself against the wall even though it won't help me get away. "Stop." I think he notices how I flinch away from him because he did stop.

He looks worried. It makes my heart flutter, but I stomp it down and tell myself not to fall under his spell again. He's just faking it. He's not really worried. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm sorry... I can't... You have to—need to leave. It's wrong...the other night," I answer. "Please, just go."

Now he looks confused. "What did I say wrong?"

"Please, leave. Leave."

"What is it?"

"I—I'm not—Just go—"

"Tell me," he persists. I could tell he was resisting the urge to grab my shoulders and tell me to snap out of it from the way his fingers twitched.

I was silent for a while.

And I decided, however painful, that I should tell him.

"My name." My voice was small, so small, I hope he didn't hear it.

"And what did I say instead?

I cringe, feeling a prickling sensation in my eye. I didn't want to cry.

"Her name," I croak out, so I clear my throat and try again. "You said her name."

"What are you saying? I didn't say any—"

"Rin. You said 'Rin'. You said it when we were... I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore." I wrap my arms around myself and look away, wanting him to go away.

For what seemed like an eternity, we stood there like our feet was glued to the ground. He didn't say anything back, the silence awkward and stifling. I didn't get to see the emotions play on his handsome face: the flabbergast; the confusion; the shock; the silent stammering; and especially not the hesitation to leave me alone.

But in the end, he left.

In the empty recluses of my parent-less house, if it was possible it got colder the moment I heard him shut the door on his way out.

* * *

The next day, I didn't see him. He wasn't around his usual flock of girls. I didn't see him in the hallways. At lunchtime, it was impossible to see him among the crowd of students in the cafeteria so I didn't try. Even in our mutual classes, he was no-show.

He was avoiding me—I figured as much.

I tried not to let it bother me. After all, it was just sex. Nothing more, nothing less. I'm sure he felt the same way.

It was easy really, except that I had a lot of free time and that I'm not very busy, so, in reality, it wasn't easy. I need to preoccupy myself with other stuff, so I decided to go shopping.

It was nice, to divulge myself in girly things, it took my mind off other things (like your one true love who likes his sister). That is until I found myself in the lingerie department.

Don't get me wrong; I've been here frequently, most especially when a certain guy was a little overexcited and ripped off my undergarments instead of unhooking them or taking them off properly.

However, that wasn't the thing. Thing is, Rin was here, and she was waving and walking.

To my direction.

Can't escape now...

Here she was. The girl. That girl. And she was smiling. "Hi Miku!" she greets so cheerfully, it was mocking my sour mood.

I prided myself in being a good actress; I can hide my emotions well. "Hi Rin." I smile.

"What are you doing here?" Her eyes danced around in a conservative way. I'm guessing this is her first time to linger into this part of the department. This part of the department had the most...

You can guess by the way Rin is practically a tomato...

"Shopping." Even I wasn't this riled up in my first time here. Poor virgin Rin. "You?"

She started playing with her fingers. "Er...you see..."

"Shopping as well?" I guess.

She nods fervently. I swear she was redder, if that was possible. Is it also possible to see steam over her head?

The sleeping devious side me was stirring awake. In all mischievousness, I smiled. I leaned in closer, as if I was just going to tell her the deepest darkest secrets, trying to rile her up even further. I knew this was very sadistic, but I still did it.

I covered my mouth in a secret-telling way. "Is it..." I paused for effect. "For..?"

I thought she was going to pass out.

"Yes," she squeaks out too fast.

In all honesty, I wonder what Len sees in his sister. Whatever in the world does the sex-god see in this innocent, zero-sex-capacity little creature?

"Well, you've come to the right person. See I know what he likes, so rest assured I know what will—"

"You've talked with him?" she cuts off.

"Er, uh, yes?" I replied. "Anyway, I'm sure you've first thought of going for dark blue because of..." I gesture to my face. She nods, like a puppy. "That's good...good, but men often like red," I take a red set from a nearby rack and drape it on myself. "But if I think—Ah!" I scurry to a lacy black two-piece and present it to the little girl. Rin blinks rapidly.

"But that doesn't cover anything!" she exclaims in horror.

I admire the little pieces of fabric. "But I thought that was the idea?" I ask innocently.

She eyes the lingerie set warily, seeming to be in an internal battle with herself. Finally, she clenches her hand in front of her determinedly. I could almost hear her say "Alright!" She takes the hanger from me. "Well...since you know boys so much then...Thank you!" She bows and dashes off.

I stare at her retreating back.

I was surrounded with piles of clothes and shopping bags. My favourite takeaway was in the kitchen. I feel good.

I knew these things were materialistic. That they wouldn't matter in the long run. That I was vain. But I needed to get over one guy, and shopping was the first push to feeling better.

I honestly didn't know what to feel around Rin. Should I have given her a cold shoulder? But she did nothing wrong. And it's not as if Len and I were dating, and with all his lovers it was impossible for us to be boyfriend-girlfriend. I have no reason to act like she snatched my boyfriend. And I acted accordingly. I was nice. I didn't let her feel like I hated her. In fact, I helped her (even though I thought it was for someone else). I guess I think that women should help fellow women when it concerns boys and relationships.

These were the facts. These were supposed to be reassuring, calming. But my mind was racing.

I notice that I was clutching the new white frilly dress I bought, I let go. I dare not ruin the precious fabric I spent money on.

I stand up and started pacing on my bedroom's carpeted floor. I drag my feet back and forth. I take deep breaths. I inhale. I exhale. I repeat. I do this, hoping my mind would go silent, hoping my hands stop shaking and hoping my heart slows down. I take off the elastic bands holding up my hair in a twin-tail do as I pace, and I run my hands through my hair.

Why isn't it working?

I still feel sick.

My rational side knows the answer. And it tells me... _Maybe because you know what they'll be doing tonight... Him and her... They'll be doing it on a bed and—_

I halt my thoughts before they can finish. I can't bear it to think like that.

I continue panicking for a while, pacing and pacing.

Until finally, I decide to busy myself, yes.

I unload the things I bought from their paper bags. I fetch some hangers and one by one I hung my clothes, color-coding them even, just to take my mind off some of my restless thoughts. I arrange the new accessories among the ones I already have. I place my shoes on the blank spaces at my shoe-rack. I was being busy. These were all I'm doing. I think of nothing else.

That last one was a lie. I am very lost in my buzzing thoughts. What am I supposed to do? Should I still notice him at school? Should I tell about this to a friend? But almost every friend I have has a relationship with him, what now?

Should I still open the door for him?

Should we put an end to this thing we have?

Should I stop loving him?

I stop what I'm doing. _Should I stop loving him? _My knees buckled, losing the strength to stand up straight, and fell down. I loved him even though I had to share him with other women. I cared about him even when I knew he was just using me for his selfish reasons.

I feel wet heat trail down my cheeks. For once, I let it all go; the pent-up masochistically painful frustrations piercing me like a dull knife. I was not okay. I wasn't feeling good and I lied.

I sob into the new dress I was clutching, not caring that it might get ruined. I stay there on the beige carpeted floor long enough that I feel my back ache and long enough to feel my legs throb from the weight I put on from an uncomfortable angle.

That is until I hear the doorbell.

I stopped sobbing, like it had an off switch. I stood up and brushed off the dirt that got on my clothes. I tossed the dress on a chair. I wiped off the tears on my face and sniffed it all out.

I hustle to the door. But who could it be? If it was my mom or my dad, they would call, but they didn't. I don't remember inviting any of my friends here today. I was careful not to mention anything to them.

And it dawned upon me as I was going to peek through the peephole, making me stop and wonder. But it was impossible. It couldn't be him.

I peeked.

It's him.

What was he doing here?

Rin should have been with...

No, it's not Len—what was I thinking?—it was Kaito. Not Len.

And that was why Len was here, in front of my door. After what happened, coming here was his last resort, I know that.

I know; between the many lovers he that he has, he will never love me back. I make this decision hastily.

And I accept it. I'm still in-love with him, despite the fact that he is in love with his sister.

Because right now he needs me and I love him and I care for him enough to accept it—such are the things that love does to you.

I open the door and let him in.

* * *

_END OF PART I_

* * *

_A/N: I've proofread this chapter for SPAG errors (Tell me if you've spotted some more!) and edited some parts. R&amp;R! A ConCrit would be nice. x_


	2. Part 2–Len

_A/N: Thank you all for the feedback. Here is your much-anticipated **long** Part II._

_Very special thanks to my friend for beta-reading this chapter and brainstorming with me to expand this not-very-much shortfic whom we shall name 'Sacchan' because she won't tell me her fan fiction account. You are da bomb dot com._

_To the anon who recently reviewed, I just want to mention that there is a better finished _Spice!_ LenKu fanfic by solitaryloner. Check it out. _:)

_IMPORTANT: Last chapter's POV was Miku's. The current chapter is told from Len's POV._

* * *

_PART II_

* * *

It had been seven years.

Seven years since I went out to buy the oranges Rin threw a tantrum for at a shop two long blocks away. Seven years since I witnessed with my own innocent eyes the familiar white family car crash against a gigantic ten-wheeler and distort into something unrecognizable, making metal appear like frail paper. I distinctly remember dragging my feet across the road in a haste. I tempted Death as cars swerved and screeched against the concrete, but Death already had his quota for today.

I wished it was just a bad, bad dream and that I would wake up and it will all be over. That I will wake up to my the smell of mom's hearty cooking and enter the kitchen to see dad reading the newspaper at the dining table, both of them setting aside whatever they were preoccupied with to greet me good morning adorned with smiles on their faces. I hope to God that the dark crimson dripping down the road, making crimson ponds, and that the clay of flesh and bones and skin inside that crumpled metal that was once a car were not my parents.

Time seemed to stop then. I remember standing there, long enough for people to gather, for the police to arrive, for the paramedics to arrive only to turn away from the horrible scene because they was nothing they can do. All of them knew my childish wishes were hopeless. I heard someone hurl and retch. Someone sobbing. Time seemed to continue once a man in blue pulled me away, wiped my wet, snotty face, wrapping his arms tightly around the ten-year-old me as if the blue man—a policeman—could shield me from the horror that cannot be unseen. "It's alright, kid. You're okay." He repeated those words over and over again.

Of course, I cried. Day and night. Refused to eat. Stayed in my room. Locked myself from the outside world. Tried to believe that it wasn't real. But reality was persistent on making me believe: there was a funeral I had to go to.

I had no choice but to attend the ceremony. I expected for the rain to fall down, to feel as devastated as I was, but it was scorching hot. There was more sweat than tears. My whole body was sticky with moisture. Nothing came from my eyes. They were hollow, useless, unimportant. I couldn't see with these eyes my parent's smiling faces, not anymore.

My tearducts cast deserted by this thought alone: I wanted to go with them. I was ready. I was determined to sprint and fall in down hole on top of their coffins. They started lowering the coffins till it disappeared in the dirt and started shoveling them to become one with the Earth.

But I was not with there.

What happened to me? I wanted to be buried. I wanted to be dead. I wanted my parents. Where did my determination go?

_She _happened, then circumstances took a full turn from what I have been drowning myself in. I believed I was alone in the world when only my parents were gone. I hadn't thought about my sister.

My sister. My little sister who threw a fit when I refused to get her those sweet oranges from the kind Mr. Vendor. My eight-year-old sister whose face was red from the heat and from crying. My sister who wailed loud enough for the both the of us and for the heavens to hear even an iota of what it's like. My sister who was breathing and alive and the sun had never been more brighter and the air never been more fresher when I took her in my arms.

I didn't care that she spoiled the fancy funeral shirt my rich aunt bought me to wear with snot and salty tears and rain. Rain? Were those my tears?

* * *

Four years.

Four years ago and I remember it all too well.

How can I forget? I had been foolish to think that everything was going to be alright. My rich aunts and uncles didn't want us, two annoying orphans that needed to be taken care of. They hired a sitter until I told them we—I alone was able to manage over my sister. They still gave us allowance to provide for our necessities. They gave us an apartment to live in. It was me and Rin against the world.

I believed what was scripted in my head. I can protect my sister. I can be a reliable figure for her. I was the only person she'd ever need. After all, I was the only one she had left. And just as I was easing into my role, she opposed. She refused to obey. Out of control. Rebelling.

What happened was the most intense argument we've ever had up to the present. And I didn't understand why she acting the way she did when all I ever did was to be a good brother to her.

I didn't approve of her taste in clothes and her experiments on makeup. I didn't care if her friends were also doing it. Where in the world did she ever pick up the words "You're ruining my life!" when heaven knows I wasn't. What was happening?

Why wasn't I ending the argument when I knew girls her age—classmates, friends, girls mentioned in gossip—doing a whole lot worse? There we were, hot-headed, refusing toback down. I spat back the awfully spot-on words and she returned carelessly inconsiderate ones both of which we didn't think we'd regret later on.

Some part of me thought it _was_ worth it, because there was something about the passion she's showing. I found myself drawn in to the way she's mad at me. Some part of me urged me to rile her up further and wanted to see the more of it. This part exhorted me, taking over my sense of reason. It was a perverse little devil whispering wicked things that I didn't know was there.

She was shouting this time, a jumble of phrases about being a teenager and making her own decisions. I replied something about her being too young...it was jibber jabber despite the closeness, the lack of distance between our faces because the devil told me to pay attention to other things . It told me to look at her cheeks flushed up in anger. To stare at those eyes sparkling with defiance. To lower my gaze to those lips pursed in determination. Her chin was already tilted up, high and proud.

The perverse little devil wanted me to lean down.

Just inches...mere centimeters...a few heartbeats away...

It was there. I wanted to have it. Capture it. Own it. _Touch it. Kiss it._

I could have it. Be mine. My possession. Take it. Want it. _Love it. Touch... Kiss..._

_DO IT._

And I broke out of my spell.

What

The

Hell?

Looking back because four years was a very long time, long enough for me to say, at that time, at that heated moment, I had the strong urge to kiss my sister. In that exact moment I didn't understand why I felt that way. When my senses came crashing back, my sense of reason screaming, _What was this feeling? Why am I feeling this? I don't understand a thing. Why is this happening to me? _

"I have to buy something at the convenience store," I said and I fled away from her, from the stifling house. I left her alone because I didn't trust my judgment that night. There were many questions, an ocean of questions.

Who would I turn to then for advice? Where would I go? Who would give me the answers and clear my mind? First of all, my parents were ten feet beneath the soil, rotting. I tried to ease in their role, for Rin. It was my responsibility as the big brother.

But I'm still a fourteen year old kid inside who needs a mother and a father.

I don't have anyone.

And I hate it. I hate that I'm alone on the street. I hate that the night is still cold. I hate that the moon is shining brightly on the clear skies. I hate that no one will offer me any advice. I hate that I had no time to enjoy being innocent and immature. I hate that the only people I could turn to were dead. I hate that they had to die. I hate if they weren't dead this wouldn't have happened. I hate that they had to leave me. I hate it being alone. I really hate it.

My feet brought me to a place with bright artificial light—the convenience store. I went inside and walked aimlessly along the aisles. It wasn't until I was paying at the cashier that I realized someone was talking to me.

It was the cashier woman. She was the one talking to me.

The lady smiled, saying that the stuff I got from the shelf was expired. I told her I won't buy it and made to leave, but she insisted on going to the back to get a new one. She beckoned me to follow –"So you can choose whatever you want. We're sorry for the inconvenience," – taking the lead with a funny sway to her hips. Once there, she walked over to a shelf and bended down to get what I think was the expired thing I took. I can't help but notice the way her skirt stretched over her butt.

The perverse little devil stirred from its slumber.

I stare at her, a hot sensation creeping up my spine. I gaze on her smooth neck, her alluring collarbone, her cleavage conveying her ravishing breasts, her spidery long legs. She noticed, pleased at this instead of being repulsed. She slowly moved towards me with that funny thing with her hips again. And I eat it all up. I didn't even point out that she got the wrong box as it was the last thing on my mind. It left completely when a seductive smile graced her painted red lips and my pants felt tight.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when she leans close to my ear, her brown, Bob-cut hair tickling the side of my chin. I shivered when she whispers that I'm cute.

And, suddenly, we were kissing, and she's unbuckling my belt, and I'm squeezing her breasts.

Seven years ago, I lost my parents to a grotesque car accident I saw with my own eyes, leaving me and my sister orphans.

Four years ago, I lost my innocence to a random cashier at a random convenience store in a random storage room. I realized it was already too late when my longing for familial companionship turned my brotherly love into something forbidden.

* * *

Am I a despicable person?

How did I get here? In being the ultimate Casanova? Charming girls...disposing them when I'm done with them? They love it — who was I to argue with that?

Why?

Why do I keep doing it?

The question nags at me, wailing from the barriers of my mind and bouncing off in my ears. I hate not knowing. Ignorance brought me in this despicable situation in the first place. Incoherent thoughts lead me to do unintelligible things. Like that time I became selfish and forgot I even had a sister until she was crying loud enough for me to notice; and like my first time in that convenience store when I was so confused with the incestuous feelings I did not yet understand.

I need to know. It's not a want, but a need.

I've learned the difference over the years between want and need. I want my sister; she only needs her brother. Girls want me; I only need to release my frustrations and self-doubts in their feverish touches.

Those females are needy. They want me to love them. They _want _too much. Wanted me to be their _boyfriend. _Wanted something more. Wanted commitment. I don't want it. I don't need it.

I only had one commitment and it was the closest thing I could ever count for as a title overlapping _that_ line. That annoying line that labeled my love as incestuous. I became this loving, supportive figure, more than just a brother, who can be there when she needed. Being committed to other girls obstructed me from performing that duty in its fullest, but it didn't stop me from sleeping with them.

If I knew why — why I keep whoring around — maybe I won't feel so ashamed. I'd somehow keep myself from hating my own skin, a way to defeat the desire to tear myself apart in despise. I even amused the thought of doing the horrible things other teenagers inflict on themselves, curious to know how it feels. Countless times, I was _tempted, _a shaky yearning to reach, to find out, to know; yet, I didn't. Because if I did: What would happen to Rin?

In the end, sex is the only drug I could drown in. I use those wanton female's love to suffice for the lack of mine. I change to this itchy, testosterone-driven, despicable, dirty young man who fucked around because he thought their spur-of-the-moment declarations of _love _suffices for his sins.

But that cannot be the answer. It's horrible.

I run my hand through my hair in frustration. This is giving me a headache. I take a break and focus on the sleeping figure next to me.

She is fast asleep, her features relaxed, mellow. A sliver of envy passes through me. What dreams could she be having tonight? She lay on her stomach. Her bare breasts, which were earlier in my palms, press against the bed, outlining their plumpness. The blanket that also covers my waist hangs low on the small of her back and is the only think that covers her.

She stirs, curling up from the nippy air and I thoughtlessly bring up the sheets. She sighs in comfort, relaxing once again into her blissful dreams.

I slid out of bed, careful not to disturb the resting figure on the bed. Although I envy her peace, she deserves it—needs it after all of our earlier activities. Moreover, a girl like her doesn't need to know how I feel. No one did really.

The cause of all this inner turmoil earlier tonight—or last night—when Rin told me that she was going out with someone.

I told her it was great. Good for her. She expressed her relief. "I thought you were going to freak out." she said. I didn't. I calmly accepted the news. I refused to acknowledge the filthy jealousy.

I want to beat up Kaito until he's as blue as his hair; and it was wrong. I hated myself for that. I'm sick of it, but it won't go away. So, at least, for tonight, even for a few hours, I want to forget. I went here and had sex with a random girl even though it won't solve my problems.

I feel lighter, but that is probably because I had no clothes on. Yet after dressing, it remained.

What about that? Hatsune Miku made me feel better. I knew coming her was the right decision, even though people from school don't like her very much. Females who flock around my table on free periods occasionally bitch about her, mostly about her ridiculous hairstyle.

They should see her hair the way I see it now, her hair long and teal blue, not short and blonde, flowing like the calm sea along her porcelain skin and the stark white sheets, free from its usual pigtails, bringing life to the boring bed.

And because of that, Miku was the perfect distraction I needed. Especially, when the following day, the distasteful couple makes their way to me amongst the student body. I had been too blissfully entranced with the light feeling that settled till morning, but it left me as soon as I realize they were right in front of me.

"Hi." Rin greets with a smile that can light up the darkest night. Her arm was looped around that wretched boyfriend of hers.

"Hello, you two." I say in a practiced jovial tone. Having been counting on myself for seven years is a lot of time to master the art of concealing emotions to anyone but the only person I can count on: me. Four years of dating girls taught me how to use it to my advantage.

I knew this would happen as soon as she told me: a test to see if I really am fine with her having a boyfriend, the fruits of her pimpy clothes and layers of makeup we argued about four years ago. She doesn't need those things. She is already pretty the way she is.

I stretched my lips wide to form a lighthearted smile, the suitable response to this test. Like all the other girls I've won over, my sister buys it. She pulls Kaito forward by the arm, thinking that it was alright with me for him to come into my personal space.

Kaito pinched Rin's cheek in an endearing way that made me sick. "Told you he was fine with it," the abomination said. He was wrong. I was anything but _fine with it._ I am not _fine with it._

"What? Why wouldn't I be?"

Lie.

"I just want my sister happy."

Truth, but not with you_. _

"Make her cry and you know I'll...uh...you know how it goes."

Am I a spectacular actor or what?

The couple cracks up, Kaito nervously, Rin in a good natured way. Clearly, she's pleased with my performance—er, behavior.

"Oh, say, onii-chan_, __w_here did you go last night, huh?" Rin asked as soon as their laughter died down.

"At the convenience store," I answer, same as I had given her before. Just because I'm at her every beck and call doesn't mean she can know full details of my life. By now, she should be fully informed of my reputation. She knew I what I was doing but is not something she approved of. "_Why_? Did you need me to buy anything for you? You know you can move your fat butt and get them yourself...whatever it is you wanted at the store."

"Hey! I am not fat!" Rin pouts and Kaito pokes her round cheeks. (He likes her cheeks too much. Stop.) "And why do you keeping repeating the convenience store lie? That's four years lame," she continues, pushing away Kaito's finger. When he refuses to stop, Rin dis-loops her arms from his, crosses them and glares at her boyfriend; Kaito responds with a smack on her forehead. With his lips. Rin blinks several times, then blushes.

I hold back the urge to vomit. I grit my teeth.

As much as I want to punch the blue-haired male right here, right now, I pretend to look like the happy onii-san for them. However, they show no signs of leaving and their public display of more-sickening-than-sweet affection is too much.

I look around the hallway, trying find an excuse to escape. Lily, long hair, blonde, blue eyes is the nearest, but not the type I frequent myself with because of the resemblance. Luka and Neru, a girl with pink hair and a blonde but with honey eyes correspondingly, are doing girl talk. Judging from their weak attempts not to stare too long, I'd say they were gossiping about the star couple. The two girls waves enthusiastically, an invitation for me to approach them. Hell no, I don't want to talk about how _per__fect _Rin and Kaito are together.

And then I see red hair, but The Red Hair is not the one making flirty eyes and coy smiles. The Red Hair is the one receiving them from The Perfect Distraction a.k.a. Miku. And he was eating it up, the red-headed son-of-a-bitch. It was Akaito, a guy in my year who likes spicy food, Kaito's younger brother.

Not that I like Miku. Yes, she's beautiful. Yes, she looks exotic. Yes, she is what you call _the top of the food chain, _but she is nothing compared to my sister. Rin is more beautiful, more exotic, more radiant.

So when I pecked Miku's soft cheek, I make it sure that it looks like I kissed her lips. I didn't know what I was thinking that time but I knew fully well that it cause a riot amongst our admirers. Really, the girls already hate her as it is.

Maybe it had something to do with last night...the way I felt better after our extraneous activities. It serves both as a thank you, and a "Fuck off, Akaito".

As much as I wanted to do it again with her the following night, eager to feel good again, I have a reputation to uphold. Albeit despicable, if I'm going to be a womanizer, might as well go all the way, thus, I have to spend one night with another girl.

I was itching to do it all over again when the unexpected happened...

She denied me.

The impact of rejection blew harder when she said it. Said those words. The wrong words.

She said I said the wrong name. Not _Miku._

"And what did I say instead?"

"Her name. You said her name."

"What are you saying? I didn't say any–"

"Rin. You said..."

_Rin_.

Stupid, stupid, stupid me climaxed to the wrong name.

I was foolish to think Miku was the perfect getaway, that finally I could do something right. But, still, she was nothing compared to the spice I yearn for the most.

Rin, my sister, the spice I couldn't taste.

...

What is wrong with me?

Maybe I really am a despicable person.

* * *

I've knocked on this door several times, some number I forgot, but I don't think it will open to me now. Nothing ever happens the way I want to.

Still, I want to hear her footsteps, the click of her unlocking the knob, and the creak of the door swinging open.

I hear her footsteps. I hear the click of the doorknob. The door swings open.

"That could been anybody, Miku," I say. No hi/hello/good evening. "You didn't ask who it was."

Her red-rimmed eyes widen. "Len!" she breathes, looking at me up and down. She sniffs. "You're soaking wet!"

I look down. "Ah. So it wasn't sweat." I realize, smiling when I look back up at her. "I was running, you see, but it seems like it rained while I was running."

She is already reaching out for me, ushering me in. I don't dare avoid her warm hands time like I did last night. I think that's why things got complicated, because I didn't let her hold my hands. I felt like accepting her hands that time was like a commitment.

She tows me behind her. I let her lead me to what I think is the living room. There was a flat-screen television mounted on the wall, an entertainment set of speakers, DVD-player and gaming appliances below the TV. A rectangular glass coffee table is situated on the middle of the living room carpet. A wide sofa, a few duvets and an ottoman surrounds it.

"You need to get out of those clothes or you'll get sick," she fusses. It kind of reminds me of a mother hen.

She makes me sit on the nearest furniture: a white velvet divan. It looks expensive. I didn't want to soil it but before I could say something she already disappeared in another room.

I start to strip off my soaked t-shirt but I don't know where to put it. Scanning around for an acceptable surface, I realize I am still wearing my shoes. I move to remove them, not wanting to soil carpet since I've already ruined the chair, when Miku reappears carrying something—towels—and hands them to me.

"Leave them," she says, pointing at my shoes and then she pries the wet shirt from my hand. Tosses it away. I accept the towels. "Do you need anything? A shower? I could lend you some clothes if you want."

This is why I like coming to Miku: she doesn't need too much details. She doesn't pry into your business like "_How's your day?" _or_ "Who was that other girl, hm?"_. When I come here, she spares no time for idle chit-chat. She always know what I want. This time around though, I don't know what compelled me to come here. After all, I've been avoiding her in school. So, why did I come here?

There it is again: another question I didn't know the answer to. I feel panic impending to overrule my senses so I distract myself.

Then I notice it.

The red-rimmed eyes. Her constant sniffing.

"Were you crying?" I ask.

Her hands fly consciously to her dry cheeks. "What?"

I stand up, tossing the towels on the duvet, and move closer to her. She backs away, "You were crying," I confirm. "Why were you crying?"

"You're still in those clothes. You need to..." she says. She is trying to change the topic.

I tower over her, water from my hair dripping down on her clothes, drop per drop. Her eyes stare up at mine. "Why were you crying?" I repeat.

I won't back down until I got my answer. She knows that because when she tries to meet my stare, she looks away. Aywhere but my persistent eyes. Persistence rooting from ignoring the thought bothering me: _why did I come here?_

Still unable to look at me, she speaks, "Why did you come here?" It's as if she read my mind.

Her question doesn't shake me as I expected because maybe I did know why I came here, like you forgot something you were supposed to fetch downstairs. I retrace my steps.

Today, Saturday was an uneventful day. I lazed around the house watching the telly, to be more specific. The door opened. My sister just came home from shopping. She went upstairs to change. I went to her room to ask if there was anything she'd like me to cook for dinner since it was my turn tonight. I opened the door but she wasn't inside. Maybe she was taking a shower. Before I closed the door, I spotted the paper bag she had with her. Stupid me just had to peek inside. It was lingerie. I shut the door. I went to my room. I put on my shoes. I think I walked past by her. I didn't want to stay at home. I had to get out of there.

"I had to get out of my house for a while," I tell her a moment later.

"Did something happen?"

_Yes_, I want to tell her. I settled for, "Nothing really."

Her eyes muster the courage to find mine. I try not be an open book. "I highly doubt you'd run in through the rain ifnothing really happened," she reasons.

Should I tell her? That I saw my sister's new lingerie? And it wasn't for me?

It's blatantly obvious what that means. Rin is going to do it with Kaito. It sickens me more than it should. It sickens me for all the wrong reasons. Should I tell her that?

Should I take a gamble? A risk? It's miracle enough she opened the door. I don't want to push it by scaring her off. She will be disgusted of me, Len Kagamine, the womanizer, when I admit my feelings for my sister to her, Miku Hatsune, the first person I ever ran to.

"If you're here for sex, then you're going to be disappointed," she declares, taking me away from my thoughts. Her eyes are glistening, an unreadable expression settled on her features.

"No! No, I didn't come here for that," I say too quickly. "I'm... still trying to figure out myself why I came here."

Her head tilt to the side. "You mean you came here unintentionally?" she asks, confused.

"Yes! I just ran out of my house after...I was going to cook dinner. I ran, didn't even realize it was raining. I ran here. And I'm still trying to figure out why and I don't like not knowing," I ramble. My hands run through my hair in frustration, not really granting effect with it still bound by my ponytail, so I tug it off. "I... We're not really getting anywhere with this conversation, are we?"

"Yes," she agrees.

"How's about I take that shower first?"

* * *

"Len?" Miku calls out. "I found some clothes for you."

"I'll dress outside, if it's alright with you?"

"Sure."

"Miku?"

"Yeah?"

I take a deep breath. "I think my sister's going to have sex with Kaito," I announce, finally mustering up the guts to say this. I tried not to mention Rin when I came, afraid I'll scare Miku off, but now I took the risk.

Will it be worth it?

"And how does that make you feel?" she boldly asks.

"Horrible," I admit. "In so many ways." I pause. "Miku?"

"Yeah?" she responds through the bathroom door.

"Can I be honest with you? I really need someone to talk to."

"Sure," she answers.

"You knew already, about my feelings for my sis—for Rin, right?"

"Yeah, I figured as much..." she trails off. I was about to say something when she speaks. "You don't have to carry it all. You can tell me."

"But, isn't it disgusting?"

"I'm sure something like that has something reasonable to back it up, right?"

It isn't a yes or no, but beggars can't be choosers. I turn off the shower and start drying myself, wrapping my waist with the towel afterwards. "You're right."

"But if you don't wanna talk about it –"

"It's okay. I want to talk about it and everything, but I don't know where to start."

A moment. Nothing spoken. "How about this...is she the reason why you..sleep around...much?"

"I..." How do I say it? I remember I said honest. Alright, honest. "Yes," I conirm.

"You want to forget her." It sounds like a question.

"Maybe." I shrug even though she can't see it. "I mean, I don't want to forget her just...what I feel towards her."

"Why?" she asks.

"Because I feel like I'm a despicable person," I admit.

"Even with all those girls saying they love you, you despise yourself?"

"Yes," I answer.

"You're not despicable though," she replies.

"Oh, please, you didn't want me the other day."

What the hell did I just say?

"Yes, that's true, but let's count the fact that I let you in despite of that," she counters. She sounds unaffected, calm. Somehow, it's relieving. I expect people to be repulsed or disgusted. I don't question why she doesn't respond that way, partly because I'm afraid she might start acting like I was a big piece of garbage.

"You saw I was soaking wet," I reason.

"I'm not the type to take in wet dogs," she says.

"Are you saying I'm a dog?"

"Yes. A handsome, not-despicable dog."

A smile tugs on my lips. "And now a freshly showered dog." I open the door and I see her sitting on the floor, her back against the wall just beside the bathroom door. Her head turns up and she wordlessly hands the clothes lying on her knees over to me. After that, I help her stand up. She smiles as thanks.

She asks where did I want to dress up and I give her a sly look. She blinks, befuddled at first, then she looks impassive. "What?" she asks.

"You know what," I tease. She merely deadpans. Even though the conversation sounds light, the atmosphere accompanying it is heavy, uncharted, yet somehow I find this, her deadpan reaction, amusing. "What does it matter? You've already seen all," I gesture to my body, "of this."

"You'll change in my room then," she says.

I knew it was a bad thing to pull a joke. She thinks I'm seducing her. "I didn't come here to sleep with you," I say.

"Yes, you said that already."

"But, I just—"

"I knew you were joking. I just chose to ignore it," she cuts off.

"Brr." I pretend to shiver. "You are cold." She gives me another look. "Okay, I'll stop." I try to make it sound cheerful. It ended up half-hearted; I just hope she doesn't catch it. "But one day, though, you'll get used to it."

I notice the falter in her steps, but she recovers quickly as she hurries to the door of her bedroom. What did that mean? Was it in something I said? The part where she gets used to my jokes? What's wrong with that?

We stand there. A long time of standing passes.

She gives me the same deadpan. _What?–_it seems to say, then she sighs. "Okay, I'll come with you inside." She goes inside. I follow her."Geez..."

_Yeah, Miku, I'm too scared to dress up on my own __and not because that's where we fuck, yeah, sure._

I dress up. We try not to make the situation more awkward by forcing words out of our mouths. The air is still except for the ruffling of towel and clothes.

Once I'm done she takes the towel from me and hangs it among her things, a telling feature which meant I just used her towel. I don't know what to do with that information.

In an awkward situation, it's either you acknowledge the awkwardness or ignore the awkwardness is there and there is no in between. This room, her bedroom, is where we had sex for countless nights ever since I approached her. That bed in the middle of the room, the white sheets replaced with a dark blue version of them, that furniture Miku used to sleep on is where we did most of it. A handful of times it occurred on the floor where we stand now. The wall that stands behind me is where I stare whenever we finish. With Miku sleeping quietly and me twirling her beautiful hair as I think about philosophies and questions as I stare at that wall as if it held the answer. Most of my topics featured the art of fucking, the rest of them spent on self-loathing. I feel the presence of the cabinet at the corner where Miku pulls out the naughtiest of things to use.

And I see Miku hanging her towel, seeming unaffected by my inner turmoil again.

I decide that in this type of awkward situation, where it is one-sided, I ignore it until it goes away.

"Hey Miku," I say once I see her finish, "Can we go back to the living room?"

She turns and nods. So we do go to the living room, where I soaked the carpet and the expensive duvet, and I'm relieved we are out of The Room.

She sits on the sofa, tucking her toes under her, and pats the seat next to her. Like the "handsome, not-despicable dog" I am, I follow.

"So...why do you have feelings for your sister?" she questions in a careful tone. "I believe we left with that."

"No, actually, it was me being despicable," I counter.

"Yes, but I already said you're not despicable, so that's solved. Now, feelings with your sister. Shoot," she replies.

"It's not that easy to say I'm not despicable when I think I'm despicable," I retaliate.

"Well, you said you needed someone to be honest with, I think I should reciprocate the sentiment," she says.

I again felt the urge to tell her about how she rejected me the other day, but if I did it will only result to an endless loop of time wasted. So I settle for, "That's your opinion. Let's leave it at that." It doesn't sound like I disagree, nor like I agree neither. She nods promptly.

"It's hard for you to say it,"—by _it_, she means my feelings—"I can see that and...but you said you wanted to be honest. But it's making you uncomfortable. But you said you wanted to talk about this. But I can see that it's not easy for you. If I were in your situation I think I'd also find a hard time admitting it, let alone say it—no offense. I mean, to put it bluntly, you love Rin more than just a sister—oh, um, sorry. I didn't mean to say that out loud. Sorry if I made you..."

She's babbling, saying her thoughts aloud. She continues on her mile-long speech while it occurs to me she's being considerate. Yes, the subject is an uneasy topic but I have already decided that I will be honest about it, so no matter what I cannot back down. I don't want to be more of a coward than how she probably sees me now. Her low opinion of me is enough reason to put pleasantries beside, yet why? Why does she care about what I feel?

Funny enough, the question doesn't nag at me as if it's out to ruin my life because it dawns upon me that I'm having this conversation right now. I'm being honest and I have someone to talk to.

And that did not happen for seven years, until today.

"Miku," I say, trying to get her attention. She doesn't hear me, so I reach out along the surface of the sofa and touch her hand. She blinks and bows down her head, eying my hand on her hand.

"Sorry, I got carried away," she apologizes in a meek tone.

"It's okay." Her hand feels warm.

"Feel free to stop me if I do it again." Maybe it's because I just took a shower.

"Sure... Hey..."

"What?"

"Can I continue touching this?"

Her face was unreadable. I feel regret over making her stop rambling. I wonder what's going through her head.

"Okay," she answers.

Warmth spreads through my chest, relieved by her answer. I didn't realize I was holding my breath, I exhaled slowly.

Miku visibly jerks in surprise when I scoot closer to her, when I take her warm hand, enclose them with both of mine, and entangle my fingers with hers. She looks at me then she looks at our hands settled on my lap then she looks at me again.

Her hand remains lifeless, so I give it a squeeze. I see Miku jerk a little bit from the corner of my eye.

"Rin is all I have," I begin. My voice sounds neutral yet small. "My parents died when I was ten. We had a caretaker for a while, but she was gone when I reached junior high. Our relatives didn't want anything to do with us since mom, my mother, eloped with my da—father.

Giving us over to an orphanage or something—I don't know what exactly they're called and I didn't care because I was too young to understand. Yeah, my aunts and uncles didn't want to deal with the paperwork so they gave us money to pay for our expenses." I caress the back of her hand with my thumb. "Honestly, I couldn't have made it on my own without Rin."

I remain fixated on our hands. The words came out effortlessly, as if I have been practicing all my life, but it left my mouth dry so I had to stop.

"Go on." Her voice sounds soft, like a whisper, as if she also kept this secret for as long as I have.

"When I'd see all the bills I didn't understand, when I burnt our dinner—God, it was black as ink back then—, when I was failing school because I didn't have a dad to ask math at, she would always be there, laughing, crying, with all her simple problem and funny quirks and everything. And I'd remember I was not alone. I'm glad she was there and it felt kinda like being a parent or so I thought...because..."

"You don' have to force yourself to say it," she interrupts hastily.

It makes me look at her. Her green eyes shine like the fresh seas I only see in pictures under the fluorescent light of the living room, the ache of her heart evident through them.

I slightly shake my head. "I'm not forced" I say. "It's just long overdue."

Looking at her sincere pained expression drives me to be completely honest with her. I don't force it, but I pass on a weak smile for reassurance but she doesn't buy it.

I can't say it while looking at her with her face like that. I caress her hand. "I fell in love with my sister along the way, realizing it when it was already too late," I whisper.

Her hand, lifeless, finally gives me a light squeeze in reassurance. "And you despise yourself for it?" she asks in the same softness as her hands did.

_Do I __myself for it__?_ Do I despise myself for loving my sister? How in the world can love bring forth filthiness?

Maybe it's because it's forbidden that I think it's filth, like..doing something impulsive and dangerous and I know that it's bad, but I continue doing it. It's obvious that these feelings, emotions, are bad, dangerous. My love for Rin doesn't come from impulse though. I learned that I loved her along the way, unfolding like the pages of a book...but that night, when we fought and the perverted me wanted to kiss her, that was impulsive...so maybe it came from impulse?

"You know," Miku speaks and I realize I haven't answered her yet as I was lost in my thoughts. "I think I understand. You were alone. You had no one else. Rin's your only family left. I...get it." She sets down her fingers on my knuckles. "I think, if I had a brother...I'd feel the same as you," she confesses.

"No, you're just saying that to spite me –"

"No! I know how that sounded like, but I do. Feel that way, that is," Miku presses. "I know I have no right to say anything about it, but I'll say it anyway." She inhales. "It's okay, Len. You have to accept yourself for it, for all the rights and wrongs. It's hard, yes, but you have to try because hating yourself is not a good thing. I don't even know how you manage to maintain your cool guy facade –,"I smile at that, "– when you say you despise yourself."

I listen to each and every word, letting them sink in thought by thought. _You have to accept yourself for it, for all the rights and wrongs. _I find the will to look her in the eye. "Did you just...give me advice?" I ask, trying to convey it in an indifferent way, but the thought, the advice, astonishes me and it laces through my words.

She seems to think about it, unconsciously tilting her head, gazing at the ceiling as if the answers were written there. Her lips puckers as she pondered about my question."Yes, I think I just did..." She turns to me. "Why? Did it offend you? Is it bad?" she asks.

I shook my head vigorously, my wet hair swaying along. "It's...good. Cool. Great, uh..."

She sighs in relief. "So you rushed through the pouring rain to ask for advice? Don't you have friends for that?" she questions.

I find fascination on my lap again. I play with our entwined hands. "They don't know." I purse my lips.

"You mean, the only person who knows is...?"

I nod in reply.

"Oh," is the only thing she could say.

"Yeah."

"Don't worry." She gives my hand another squeeze. _I won't tell anyone, _it means.

"Miku?"

"Yes?"

"Why were you crying?"

"I was watching a movie."

"Oh."

"Yes."

Sliding down the sofa to reach her height, I lean against her shoulders, resting my head on it. "Thank you for the letting me in, for the shower, for the clothes, for listening, for everything," I say. _  
_

I wait for her reply. Seconds turn to minutes and her mouth remained shut. Maybe I am too heavy to lean on her, but before I can ease away, she finally speaks:

"It's my pleasure to help."

It wasn't romantic, nor was it magical. It wasn't heaven, but it counted as something after the seven year hell. There was something in this moment that I had yet to find out, and that uncertainty, the fact that I didn't know what it was, didn't antagonize me like it always did. For the first time in years, I felt like a child again, without a care in the world.

Because all I cared about is that, as I blithely lean on her shoulders, enchanted in the warmth of her hand, I didn't want this moment to end.

* * *

_END OF PART II_

* * *

_A/N: Even I got doki doki with the LenXMiku moe here while I was writing it. I walked around the house, washed the dishes, made coffee while I fangirled about it._

_It's been 3 months! Ah, I feel like I owe the readers some explanation. I'm deeply sorry for the 3-month see, I was in school for two months, explaining why I didn't prioritize proofreading the previous chapter. When I got on vacation, I tried to reconcile with my on-going story as well as develop new ones. Then, the greatest thing happened to me: my laptop broke down. In other words, I didn't write for fourteen days, give or take, but I inherited a new one. School starts in about a week for me but, pfft, as if that'll keep me away from here. (I'm one of those people who's relaxed spends their free time doing what they want.)_

_ANYWAY, thank you for waiting this long (I have tears) and, again, apologies. If you spot any errors, kindly point them out and the pizza gods will love you. _

_So how did I do? What are your thoughts, suggestions, expectations, disappointments, etc.? R&amp;R or whatever feedback you want to offer. Constructive criticism is appreciated, but no flames, please. I'm sensitive._


End file.
